


Trixie's Tricks

by PuddlesofPupcake



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Period-Typical Homophobia, Secret Relationship, patsy and delia are not, trixie is sneaky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 03:25:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9415988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuddlesofPupcake/pseuds/PuddlesofPupcake
Summary: 4 Times Trixie Covered For Patsy and Deliaor4 times Patsy and Delia were not even slightly subtle and honestly how have these nerds not been caught yet?





	

In her twenty-something years on this planet, there are three things that Beatrix Franklin had become quite the master of. Reading people, keeping secrets and the fine art of subtlety. They had served her well , she had learnt how to handle and hide an alcoholic father and years later she'd learnt to disguise her own demons. They also gave her a particular flair as a midwife as she could detect any funny business regarding mothers, whilst remaining a trusted confidant for her vulnerable patients. However the one woman who pushed Trixie's talents further than anything was a little closer to home than the mother's of Poplar. In fact she slept in the bed next to hers.

Since she arrived 2 years ago, Trixie had gladly become firm friends with Patsy Mount. Of course she had felt somewhat miffed when she replaced Jenny but her dry sense of humour, wry smile and love for a good smoke and drink meant that Trixie grew ever more appreciative of her presence. The hard shell of the redhead's polished and proper exterior made it particularly difficult for Trixie to figure her out, but as they grew closer her guard started to fall a little.

"He has not enough of some things and too much of others..."

Trixie's suspicions began brewing after Patsy's comment, falling out of her mouth on an exhale with a mischievous glint in her eyes. It didn't take a genius. The blonde midwife's mind went back to her Catholic secondary school days, giggled whispers of a type an inclination far too taboo to be spoken out loud in a school corridor patrolled by nuns. Not that she could ever accuse her roommate of something so serious on account of an off hand comment that could've meant anything.

The same fear of coming to the wrong conclusion came the following year, when that ghastly business with Tony Amos exploded across Poplar like some ridiculous soap opera. The divisions in the convent had been as tense as they had been in the community, particularly as Sister Winifred and many of the Poplar mothers had strongly condemned the man's actions. Trixie had found herself defending Mr Amos more than once, she couldn't bear his persecution. But she had to notice Patsy, withdrawn and defensive, curtly responding to the blatant homophobia that ran amok whilst appearing very much on the brink of tears, rage or something else that Trixie couldn't predict.

The penny fully dropped one night when Trixie was relaxing in bed, just waiting for a slightly inconsiderate baby to drag her from her warm bedroom. She assumed the room was vacant because the other midwife was on call, Trixie was never renowned for remembering to check who was on call. As she settled further into her mattress and reclined with a cigarette, the door creaked open. Her eyes followed the redhead as she crept back into their room wearing an ill-disguised grin, half a bottle of honey whisky surreptitiously slid up her pyjama sleeve. 

"Where have you been?" Trixie inquired, trying to withhold the suspicion from her voice.

"In Delia's room," Patsy confessed, confirming some of Trixie's ideas about the sweet Welsh nurse. 

An involuntarily raised eyebrow pressed Patsy a little further "She was...teaching me a new card game."

A number of fiery locks had escaped from Patsy's perfectly preened beehive. God (and everyone in Poplar) knows that the midwife was more than heavy handed with a can of lacquer on a morning. Trixie had yet to hear of a card game that was also a contact sport.

Trixie was a modern woman, she wasn't repulsed or horrified by her friend's preferences. It was 1960 for goodness sake, who was anyone to say love was bound to gender? She knew that society and the law didn't share her open minded attitude. As Patsy let out a sigh and rolled over to sleep with that silly smile still plastered across her face, the blonde made a silent vow. She was going to protect their relationship. She had no idea how difficult they would make it for her.

i.

The first time Trixie had to put her talents to the test came just days after she took responsibility for keeping Patsy and Delia's secret. A calm afternoon where unborn babies of Poplar decided to stay right where they were and give the midwives a rare afternoon off. Trixie found herself around the dining table with Patsy, Delia, Barbara, Sister Mary Cynthia and Sister Winifred, Scrabble tiles scattered across the cardboard square.

"12 points, on a triple word square, 36 points for me!" Patsy sat back in her chair a little, eyebrows floating up her forehead with smug pride.

"B-E-L-I-V-E? Are you sure that's how you're wanting to spell believe?" Sister Mary Cynthia glanced at the board and then back at the woman whose cheeks were quickly reddening.

Delia lightly nudged her girlfriend "That private boarding school did its job didn't it, cariad?'

A smile fluttered momentarily across Patsy's face, disappearing as she stiffened at the thought of what had just been publicly said. Trixie's mind went back to her Welsh grandmother. Cariad- a term of endearment. Darling. Sweetheart. Not something to call your secret lover in front of friends, not to mention a pair of nuns.

"Is that Welsh, Delia?" Barbara asked, too nosey for anyone's good sometimes.

"I remember my Nana Beatrice calling me that as a little girl," Trixie jumped in. "It means fool, I think. 'Cariad, stop pulling the kittens tail.' 'You've got jam on the carpet, cariad."

Delia was about to protest when Patsy cut her off "Absolutely right Trix, and Delia you aren't wrong."

Trixie had to swallow a smirk thinking about how much Delia would later complain to Patsy about butchering her language.

ii.

Magenta doesn't go very well with ginger hair, Trixie couldn't prevent herself from thinking as she slowly swept her hand across the soft shirt that was crumpled on the bed. One arm was outstretched across the bedspread. Trixie instinctively picked it up and started to fold it, remembering every time that Patsy had chastised her for leaving clothes strewn around the room. 

Wait.

Patsy never left clothes lying around.

The blonde midwife cast her eyes across the small space to Patsy's wardrobe. The door slightly ajar to 'let the fresh air touch the clothes' displayed immaculately pressed garments, colour coded for good measure. There was no way on earth that it could be Patsy's shirt. Trixie hated the silky feel of it and it wasn't even close to Barbara's demure priest's daughter style, so although she supposed she couldn't entirely rule out it being part of Sister Julienne's secret sultry wardrobe, it had to be Delia's. Trixie could only despair at the lack of subtly. After taking a moment to roll her eyes and hate herself for being their saviour, she slipped the shirt inside her cardigan and crept across the hall to Delia's room.

"Hello?"

She had mentally double checked the rota but Trixie couldn't help convince herself that she was going to accidentally surprise the brunette nurse in her undergarments. She flicked on the light switch and spotted the wardrobe in the opposite corner of the unkempt room. Her friends' relationship suddenly became completely confusing, how on earth could military standard tidy Pasty cope with a woman who's living quarters resembled the kind of state that made Trixie's mother apocalyptic. Love really does conquer all.

After returning the shirt out of sight in the wardrobe, Trixie couldn't stop her trained eye coming across a delivery package box wedged between the bed and the chest of drawers. At least Delia hid one thing. Curiosity found her hands pulling off the lid and gently leafing through its contents. She knew it was a fairly awful thing to do but justified it with saving them from being discovered, again. Trixie uncovered a small notebook with slightly fading paper, with sketches of a woman on every page. Squinting at the face and the squiggly but familiar signature in the corner, she realised this was Patsy drawing Delia over and over again. Some of them were in "compromising" situations that managed to bring heat to Trixie's face. Underneath the notebook there was a pile of opened envelopes that even the biggest stretch of morals couldn't justify opening. Or could it? Trixie's slender finger slid gently across the opening of the envelope, hating herself for her invasion of privacy. 

"Honestly Barb, male surgical is an absolute thrill. Really. Someone train me as a midwife please?" A voice dripping with sarcasm floated through the building, followed by a laugh and a heavily closed door.

Shit shit shit shit. Trixie slammed the box back into its place and bolted out the room, at least able to hold onto the knowledge that she'd stopped her friends been caught at least one more time.

iii.

Midwifery and district nursing worked in mysterious ways. Sometimes every available hand was on deck, sometimes everyone seemed to be knocking around in a convent that appeared too small for them. Trixie tended to prefer the busier days but sometimes one of the latter days was entirely called for every once in a while, especially when the opportunity presented itself for soaking up some sunshine

"Does this baby oil actually work? I feel greasy enough to be paired with a battered haddock and peas"

Barbara stretched out her shiny legs across the steps, playfully poking Trixie with the toe of her scuffed plimsoll. 

"All beauty is sacrifice, Gilbert"

Trixie almost managed to conceal a smirk as she dramatically looked over her far too expensive sunglasses.

"But not everything in life can be sacrifice, I'm going to go track down some lemonade." 

The blonde stood up and strode back into the building, as Barbara rested her head on the wall behind her. Only lemonade straight from the fridge could be so satisfying on such a hot day. 

"Deels.." 

Trixie heard a stifled giggle from somewhere in the apparently empty corridor. She was entirely convinced that her worries about Patsy and Delia had sent her insane,until she remembered the broom closet she was stood next too. Far too reckless. Lemonade first, subtly kick the closet door to warn them afterwards.

"Ah, Nurse Franklin. Are you enjoying the blessings of today's sunshine?" 

Sister Julienne smiled warmly towards Trixie, full of the kindness that seemed unrelenting from the experienced nun. Before Trixie could answer, the bottle of lemonade slid through her hands and shattered on the floorboards. Blasted baby oil.

"Oh I'll go get the broom." 

Sister Julienne purposefully marched towards the door, followed swiftly by the young midwife. 

"I can do that Sister..." she blurted out.

"Nonsense, Nurse. I will do it."

Living in a convent had called every midwife's faith into question more than once, but only a higher power could be blamed for the phone ringing at that exact moment.

"Aren't you on call, Sister" 

The nun hurried off towards the phone, the needs of Poplar's expectant mothers trumping the smashed glass in the kitchen. 

Trixie waited for Sister Julienne to leave,presumably taking Barbara with her,before firmly thumping on the closet door three times. Better that than barging straight in there. Several seconds passed before Patsy sheepishly opened the door, the grimace on her face suggesting she was expecting a furious nun.

"Could I trouble you for the broom please, Nurse Mount." Trixie was trying hard to keep back her laughter.

"Just so you know, Sister Julienne asked us to sort out some of the old record books back here" Patsy stammered out, her calm composure gone.

Trixie nodded as sincerely as she possibly could, walking away resisting the temptation to tell Patsy her dress was buttoned up wonky.

iv.

Another night on call, another night of lying in bed fully clothed with panstick and mascara immaculately applied in preparation for the arrival of a baby. These nights were dull when Barbara was out with Sister Winifred whilst Sister Julienne and Sister Mary Cynthia were attending another birth and Nurse Crane was at her language class, especially as Patsy and Delia were going on a 'walk'. For once they used some common sense and waited until everyone else was out or on call. 

"Hey Trix, do you have a spare belt by any chance? These trousers are an absolute liability".

Pasty entered the bedroom, glancing in despair at her black and white checked slacks. Trixie had to admit to being impressed with how they and her emerald coloured sweater showed off her figure, she could totally see where Delia was coming from. She spotted a black leather belt coiled in the corner of the room, pointing it to Patsy.

"So what's the plan for tonight?" Trixie knew she shouldn't expect much detail.

"Oh you know, just a walk around in the fresh air. Maybe we'll stop for cake" Patsy trailed off.

"You're dressed very nicely for cake. I like your lipstick though, what is it?

"Oh it's called Ruby Rush, I got it in town a few weeks ago."

Delia wandered into the room, also overdressed for a trip to the cafe.

"Hi Trixie. Are you ready to go Pats?"

Delia's hair was pulled back into two ponytails, a style that most would consider Patsy's. Thinking about this, Trixie's eyes were drawn to the apex of her jawline where there was a deep crimson mark. Ruby Rush.

"Delia Busby, are you actually kidding me?"

Both women in front of Trixie were about to protest, when she jumped off the bed and cut them off. She pulled Delia towards the mirror by her arm, the Welsh woman's skin blushing so furiously the lipstick mark became almost indistinguishable.

"I have spent weeks covering for you two being useless, I know what the situation is with you and its only thanks to me that no one else does. Cariad? The shirt? The broom closet?."

Patsy and Delia kept steady eye contact with each other, neither daring to look at the furious blonde woman. Silence filled the room for almost a minute until Patsy spoke up in barely more than a whisper, shaking with the gravity of the situation.

"Are you going to tell anyone?"

Trixie couldn't help but soften, reaching out to squeeze her best friend's arm.

"Of course not, I honestly couldn't be happier for you. But you know even more than me what's at stake, you've got to be more careful. I'll still be watching out for you though."

Delia grasped Trixie into a hug, trying to pretend there wasn't a risk of tears at any moment. "Thank you Trixie. Seriously"

"Now you two better go and enjoy your date, whilst I wait around here all alone. I swear the good deeds I do will rewards me some day."


End file.
